Interrupted Dreams
by Leahna
Summary: Roxton and Marguerite's time alone together is interrupted by the appearance of an old friend.


The sun was reaching it's zenith and filled even the furthest reaches of the tree house with a golden glow. Marguerite Krux walked into the main room, a lazy, contented smile gracing her face.  
  
"Well, Well," Lord John Roxton mused. He was seated at the table reading a book which he immediately put aside. "Wide awake and it's not even noon! Well, not quite anyway."  
  
The raven-haired heiress stretched her arms over her head and slowly, purposefully, worked the imaginary kinks from her back. She didn't have to look to know exactly where the hunter's eyes had been drawn. He knew her actions were deliberate, but he enjoyed the view anyway. She pretended to ignore him as she crossed the room to check the status of the coffee pot. She breathed in the comforting aroma of fresh coffee and licked her lips in anticipation as she poured herself a cup. She turned to Roxton and smiled a sincere thank you. The handsome hunter wasn't a coffee drinker, he had made the dark elixir specifically for her.  
  
In response to her smile, Roxton rose and approached her, "you do remember that we were supposed to check Challenger's equipment up on the ridge today?" he chided gently.  
  
"It is only an hour's hike to the ridge," she answered dismissively, before blowing into her cup and taking a satisfying sip of strong, black coffee, she closed her eyes and savoured the taste and warm feel as it slid down her throat. She turned her grey eyes back to Roxton and said, "Since you insist we make this trip, don't begrudge me a little extra sleep. We have plenty of time to get there, do some maintenance, and still be back before dark."  
  
"Yes, but I was hoping to take it easy, enjoy some time alone together?"  
  
The disappointment in his voice gave her a momentary twinge of regret, but then, "Alone?" she made an exaggerated sweep of the room with her eyes. "and where is everyone else?" she reminded him.  
  
"They left for..."he trailed off as he realised her meaning.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"humm, yes," he lifted his eyebrows suggestively and continued toward her until mere inches separated them. "They left while you were still dreaming."  
  
"And such lovely dreams," she purred.  
  
He removed the cup from her hands asking, "care to share them?"  
  
"I think," her voice caught for just a second. She swallowed hard, "we already are..." her voice trailed off as his mouth covered hers. The kiss began gently, almost tentative, but when Marguerite's lips parted for his probing tongue, Roxton groaned and hungrily took what she offered. He ran his hand down to the small of her back. moulding her hips against him. His other hand cupped her breast. She teased his neck and ears with her fingertips as she rubbed against his hard muscled thighs. Evidence of his growing need thrust back at her. Her hands slid down to claw insistently at his back pressing her body closer as if to melt right into him.  
  
Then, suddenly, she pushed away. She rested her forehead against his chest. Her breath was loud and ragged.  
  
"Marguerite?" the hunter was confused. He must have done something wrong, but what? His hand lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. He could clearly read the fear that warred with passion. One tear escaped to begin a lonely trek down her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb, "It's all right," he kissed the tip of her nose, saying, "I'll wait as long as it takes." Somehow, he managed a smile even though his body throbbed in protest, aching to own her.  
  
She searched his soft, hazel eyes. This was the only man she'd ever truly trusted, and he'd let her down twice. Yet she found herself trusting him again and she feared him all the more because of it. She was frightened by the intensity of her own feelings, but mostly, she was terrified of losing this man she had come to love more than wealth and more than life.  
  
Her grey eyes held his questioning gaze as her hands slid up and her fingers hooked under his braces brushing them from his broad shoulders.  
  
"We've waited long enough," she whispered huskily.  
  
"You're sure?" his voice had assumed the rough throaty quality she loved. In answer, her fingers entwined in his short, dark hair, and pulled his eager mouth back to hers.  
  
He released his hold on her for the few seconds it took to pull his shirt over his head. It fell unheeded to the floor. Then, his arm was back around her, his other hand fumbling with her buttons. The white blouse joined his shirt. He quickly went to work on the camisoles fastenings; they were more difficult, but his determination paid off. The expensive bit of lace soon lay atop the growing mound of discarded clothing.  
  
Flesh on flesh intensified the already raging fire. Kisses grew steadily more demanding. Marguerite gave a small cry of protest when his lips left hers, but sighed when his ravenous kisses trailed down her neck and lower sending delicious shivers down her spine. His mouth blazed a hot line of fire back up her throat. He nuzzled her ear briefly before recapturing her swollen lips. Her body was shaking as she gave in completely to desires she had held in check for so long.  
  
Without breaking their kiss, Roxton scooped her up, carried her to her room, and set her down in the middle of the room. He released her, giving her one last chance to back out. Marguerite took his large callused hands in her small ones and led him to the bed. She laid down and drew him with her. Her thick black hair floated across the pillow, framing her face and giving it a porcelain glow. He couldn't resist caressing her cheek, reassuring himself that this unreal beauty was really here--was really his. She smiled up at him and parted her lips in invitation. He needed no further encouragement. He covered her body with his own; their mouths fused together, tongues raced to meet. Her hands traced the muscles of his bared chest, memorising every inch. His hands were busy too: touching, teasing, revelling in having that which he'd wanted for so long.  
  
Roxton pulled away and removed the boots from his lady's feet, bestowing feathery kisses on each toe, before running his rough hands slowly, sensuously up her shapely legs, pushing her heavy skirt to her waist. Now only a light swath of silk separated him from his objective. Marguerite reached up and pulled him back against her. She wrapped her legs around him and pressed against his maleness. He moaned against her lips and shifted to unbuckle his belt.  
  
A faint grinding noise drifted down from upstairs; the elevator? Somewhere in the recesses of his fevered brain, he acknowledged that the others had returned. He dismissed the fleeting thought. Nothing was going to interfere this time. He raised up slightly, reaching for his pant fastenings and saw surprise and horror in his love's eyes. He heard the creak of floor boards and then the world erupted in bright lights which one, by one faded until there was only blackness. The last sound he heard was Marguerite's cry.  
  
*****  
  
The treehouse seemed oddly quiet when Veronica, Ned Malone and Professor George Challenger returned. The pretty blonde jungle girl called out, "Roxton, Marguerite?"  
  
Malone plopped his heavy rucksack on the table. The young reporter smirked as he picked up two shirts and a lacy camisole from the floor. "I think they may be a bit busy," he displayed the garments.  
  
Challenger chuckled and turned away, running his hand through his longish, red hair. He was only surprised that this hadn't happened before. His amusement came to an abrupt halt when he espied something quite out of place. "Malone, you had better see if they are here," he paused, deep in thought, then added, "do be discreet."  
  
As Ned headed down to the sleeping rooms, Challenger scooped a strip of leather from the floor. Veronica came up behind him, "an amazon wrist band. But how..."  
  
"There's been a fight," Malone hollered as he rushed back into the great room. "Marguerite's room  
  
is a mess and there is a lot of blood. You don't think that she..."  
  
"It wasn't Marguerite," Challenger displayed the wrist band to the reporter.  
  
Veronica headed for the elevator, "I'll see if I can pick up their trail."  
  
"It is already dark, " the scientist objected. "We should wait until morning."  
  
"And when this rain breaks, we'll lose all chance of finding them."  
  
Challenger admitted to the validity of her statement, "We go now. We'll be right behind you." He and Malone quickly gathered supplies. On impulse, he grabbed Roxtons holsters with the matching pearl-handled pistols and stuffed them into his rucksack along with the two shirts, then started down.  
  
The jungle girl had already found the tracks of over a dozen amazons, a set of bare feet and signs of someone being dragged. Wordlessly, the three set off in search of the lost explorers.  
  
*****  
  
Evening was overtaking the plateau. Shadows had grown long and a chill was setting in. Slowly, consciousness returned to Lord John Roxton. His head throbbed. His face felt like he'd been slugged with a sledge hammer. He clenched his jaw trying to ignore the pain and come to terms with what happened. Damn it! I should have been more aware of the situation! "Calm down," he told himself, "you have more important things to worry about right now. You have to find Marguerite, if anyone has hurt her..." the hunter shivered slightly, he was still naked from the waist up. The rope securing him to a tree was so tight that it bit into his chest, his hands were tied securely behind his back, but he began working at them. Looking around, he realised that he knew this clearing. He realised that he wasn't more than eight or ten hours from the treehouse. He was evidentially facing away from the camp. He could hear voices, decidedly feminine voices, but couldn't make out the words. He didn't hear the one voice he so desperately needed to hear.  
  
"So, you are back with us."  
  
Roxton looked up. Amazons! His poor confused mind couldn't quite grasp the implications. "Where is Marguerite?" he demanded, "the woman who was with me?"  
  
"Are you thirsty?" the tall, muscular brunette asked, completely ignoring his question.  
  
"I want some answers," he replied, thinking "and I wouldn't mind a shirt." Aloud, he continued, "Why have we been taken prisoner. Where are you keeping Marguerite?"  
  
She waved her hand dismissively and walked away. He yelled at her, but she did not return. He continued to work his bindings against the rough tree bark, but was doing more damage to his wrists than to the ropes. At least his exertions were adding a little warmth to his bare torso.  
  
The moon had risen in a starless sky before Roxton was again approached. This time, two amazons cut the rope holding him to the tree, grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet. It caused his head to throb again. He spat questions at them, but they remained silent as they led him through the camp.  
  
He was thrust unceremoniously into a large tent. His knees hit the ground hard. He groaned as he looked up....before him, on what appeared to be a bundle of furs, sat an amazon. She wore a leather breast plate which was much more ornate than any of the others. On either side of her, stood guards, each armed with spear and drawn sword. The seated blonde looked vaguely familiar.  
  
"Why, Lord Roxton," she said, her voice dripping honey, "did you forget me already?"  
  
He honestly couldn't put a name to her.  
  
A voice from behind him supplied the name, "Hyppolyta." But it wasn't the name, it was the voice which made his heart leap. Before he could turn to see her, reassure himself that she was all right, Marguerite landed face first on the ground beside him. She was unbound. Pushing herself up onto her knees, she looked immediately over at him, anxiety etched on her beautiful face.  
  
His stomach constricted at her condition. She had apparently fared worse than he. Her soft, grey eyes, so filled with concern for him, were swollen and bruised; the right eye, bloodshot. There was a long cut on her brow. One side of her face was mottled black and purple, the other, scraped raw. Her bottom lip was split. The shirt she wore-- one of his?-- had a large blood stain covering most of the right sleeve. Seeing her like this caused him more pain than the mere physical trauma he'd been dealt. Where before he'd been confused, worried and even angry, now Roxton was enraged, "What do you want from us," he roared.  
  
The seated amazon looked them over, one and then the other, slowly and deliberately as if they were specimens in Challenger's laboratory. " Quite a question, coming from those who destroyed our entire civilisation."  
  
Finally, the hunter realised who this woman was. He'd sparred with her, and she'd "won" him in a fight with Marguerite.  
  
"Through you, we are going to appease our goddess and begin the process of rebuilding."  
  
"But when we left your village..."  
  
"Our HOME!" Hyppolyta interrupted the heiress. "When you left, everything was a shambles. We turned back attack after attack from both the man's village and the cannibals until our number dwindled and we were too weary to continue. The cannibals swept in to finish the devastation. Few escaped. The elderly, the injured, the young.... later, we returned for them, but we are all that are remain."  
  
"I'm sorry, " Marguerite said sincerely, "but you can't hold us responsible..."  
  
Once again, Hyppolyta interrupted, "But you are responsible, and our goddess Athena has promised that we will be greater and more powerful than ever if we follow her dictates. She has decreed that 'he who destroyed, must renew' and that is you, Lord Roxton."  
  
"That's about as clear as mud," Roxton whispered to Marguerite, wondering what perverse drama the amazon goddess expected them to enact.  
  
A smug smile danced across Hyppolyta's lips as she rose and approached the kneeling explorers. She seemed to enjoy filling in the blanks, "You are consort to the new queen," she indicated herself," If, after an appropriate time you have given me a child, you will be free to go. If not, you will be sacrificed and another consort taken."  
  
"Talk about pressure," the heiress muttered. To the leather-clad woman looking down at her, she asked, "and what are your 'goddess's' plans for me?"  
  
The amazon's smile widened. "Tomorrow, at the height of the sun, will be the joining ceremony. You, dear Marguerite, will be right in the centre of the ritual. To honour those who died and to assure fertility, you will be sacrificed."  
  
"NO!" Roxton bellowed. He leapt up, but was knocked down from behind.  
  
"Take them to the pit. They can stay there until we're ready for them."  
  
*****  
  
"Marguerite," Lord Roxton urged gently, as he tried again to rouse the unconscious heiress. She'd banged her head against a rock when they had been dumped unceremoniously into a deep hole which was evidentially their make-shift jail. He nudged her with his shoulder. His face close to hers, he said her name again and was rewarded with a quiet moan.  
  
Her voice was weak and unsteady as she asked, "John?"  
  
He smiled in relief. He ached to hold her, but his hands were still tightly bound behind his back. "It's okay," he soothed, "We're together and we are going to get out of here.  
  
She moaned again, louder this time, and held her head as she struggled to sit up. Glancing at her surroundings in the deep gloom, she said, "I'd hoped it was all just a bad dream."  
  
Not ALL, I hope," Roxton teased with a twinkle in his dark eyes.  
  
As always, he was trying to keep her spirits up. He was transparent, but she played along. "Well, I was rather enjoying the dream until those Amazons showed up."  
  
"Yet another reason to discourage their visits." He was encouraged by her small, half-laugh, " right now, I'd like to be liberated from their 'hospitality'. Untie me and I think we can climb out of here." He turned and thrust his wrists at her.  
  
It was too dark to see the ropes well, and her fingers weren't working as they should, so it took Marguerite much longer to loosen them than it usually would have. Finally, Roxton was able to squirm out of the rough bindings.  
  
"Forget how to untie a knot?" he teased. His smile disappeared the instant he saw tears of frustration and pain shining on her bruised face. "What...?" He took her small, injured hands in his. Two of her fingers were bent at strange angles.  
  
She quickly pulled back and crossed her hands primly in her lap, fingers hidden. "I'm fine." When he began to protest, she reasoned, "It's not like we can do anything about it until we get back to the treehouse anyway."  
  
Reluctantly, he admitted that she was right, "then the quicker we get out of here, the quicker we can get you fixed up." He stood and, hands around her slender waist, he helped her to her feet.  
  
She winced involuntarily as her bare feet met the cold ground; their jungle trek had made hamburger of the soles of her feet. She kept her face averted to hide the threatening resurgence of tears, "So what is the plan?"  
  
He watched her for a time, trying to reassure himself that she was all right, then he too turned to the walls of their "cage". "Our friends weren't too careful when they hacked out this hole. The roots; we should be able to use them to climb out. Do you think you can?"  
  
"I'll manage."  
  
"Okay," he smiled, admiring her resilience and being reminded all over again how much he loved her, "let's give it a try."  
  
He waited until she grabbed hold of a hearty root and began to climb, before he hefted himself up. He was halfway up the wall, when he heard Marguerite curse. He glanced down and could just barely see her outline. She was sitting on the ground where she'd fallen. He quickly dropped to kneel beside her. She flinched when he grasped her upper arms. Immediately, he let go and looked at his left hand which came away wet and dark: blood. Gently, Roxton pushed the shirt sleeve up until he could see the deep gash across her arm. Seeing that, combined with all the other injuries, he'd witnessed, he could no longer keep silent, "What did they do to you?" His voice was quiet, but full of indignation.  
  
Memories of the attack flooded her mind:  
  
Roxton landed hard on her chest. The amazon who'd hit him with the hilt of her sword rolled him onto the floor. Marguerite jumped up, only to find the business end of that sword at her throat. "What do you want?" she demanded.  
  
Laughing, the tall amazon replied, "you'll see soon enough."  
  
The heiress lifted her chin and replied hautily, "this is my home, get out."  
  
"You are in no position to make demands." She nodded to two other leather clad women who took hold of the unconscious Roxton and began to drag him from the room.  
  
"Leave him alone!"  
  
I am getting tired of your orders," she said, pushing the sword's sharp edge against the soft skin of Marguerite's neck.  
  
"We don't want any trouble," the raven-haired heiress tried to reason, "just, please, let him go, and leave."  
  
"About time you realised who is in control," she raised her sword and brought it down toward the adventuress's face.  
  
Stumbling backward, Marguerite raised her arm in near useless defence. She felt the blade scratch across her brow and bite deeply into her upper right arm. As she hit the floor, her hand landed on her boots. She closed her fingers around the smooth leather and whipped it toward the gloating amazon. The boot heel connected hard with the blonde's face. Blood spurted from her broken nose.  
  
Marguerite smiled in short-lived satisfaction.  
  
The bleeding amazon kicked her in the side. When she didn't get the reaction she wanted, she kicked Marguerite twice in her face, then stepped hard on her hand. Fingers gave with audible snaps. Pain lanced up her arm. A rope was looped around her neck, and it was either go along, or choke to death....  
  
She looked up into Roxton's concerned face, "I objected to the way they greeted you -- they didn't appreciate it."  
  
He didn't push her further, it never did any good. She would divulge what she wanted, when she wanted. He reached up under her skirt, and ripped a long length of the lining, using it to bind her arm. "You'll never be able to climb, not with this wound."  
  
Her unhurt fingers played lightly across his stubbled cheek, "then you'll just have to come back for  
  
me."  
  
"I won't leave you."  
  
"You have to. You know it is our only chance."  
  
She was right, but leaving her alone in a ten foot deep hole surrounded by amazons made him feel sick, "Marguerite...."  
  
She stopped him with a kiss, "Just hurry." Brushing his hair back off his forehead, she added, "and be careful."  
  
"I can't..." he felt totally helpless.  
  
"John," she smiled reassuringly, "go."  
  
His lips brushed hers briefly, "I will be back," he promised.  
  
"I know."  
  
His hand lingered on her cheek until he forced his gaze from hers and attacked the wall. The toes of his boots dug into the newly disturbed dirt as his hands located the strongest roots. Slowly, he approached the top. Arm muscles screaming in protest, he pulled himself over the edge. Shadows were too dark for him to see her as he looked down, but he knew she was watching as he said, "don't get into trouble while I'm gone." Then he headed for the cover of the jungle.  
  
Marguerite looked up into the lightening sky. Dawn wasn't far off. The clouds had gotten heavier, she noted, "I hope it doesn't ..." rain started just then. Not a light sprinkle, but a torrential downpour. It wasn't long before she was sitting in a pool of mud. Quite loudly, she complained, "could this day get any better?"  
  
*****  
  
Hidden by the darkness and the driving rain, Roxton skirted the camp. He had to find a rope or ladder, something to enable Marguerite to escape the prison hole. He was having no luck, and sunrise was quick approaching. He was on his hands and knees checking bundles stacked behind one of the tents.  
  
Who's there?" an amazon patrolling the camp drew her sword and squinted into the rain.  
  
Roxton froze. The amazon was only a dozen feet away and looking straight at him. She took two steps closer to him.  
  
Another voice called out, "what is it, intruders?" She came running up to join the first who continued to stare a few more seconds, then turned away.  
  
"I thought I saw something, It must have been an animal."  
  
They both walked away, allowing the hunter to finally let out the breath he'd been holding. He scurried into the jungle. He threw himself against a tree, his mind racing to devise a plan. He would not fail his beautiful Marguerite; He couldn't.  
  
He started walking, hoping for inspiration. The rain had stopped, and the sun was peeking over the mountains. Ahead of him, he could hear the approach of three or four people -- a hunting party. the only weapon close at hand was a stick. He stooped for a hefty one. Clutching it tightly, he waited. As he hid behind the tree, he knew that the club was of little use against spears, swords and arrows. Surprise was his only chance.  
  
The first amazon came along side of his tree, and he swung his club. He stopped at the last second as he recognised, "Veronica!"  
  
"Whoa!" the jungle girl exclaimed.  
  
"Am I glad to see you," Roxton said smiling at his three friends. He clapped Challenger on the shoulder. Together, he knew the four of them could rescue Marguerite.  
  
"Here, old man," Challenger slung his rucksack from his back, "a couple of things I think you can use." He handed the hunter his shirt.  
  
"Thanks, George," Roxton said as he pulled the shirt over his head. It felt good to have the dry cloth against his skin; made him feel somehow less vulnerable. As he tucked in the shirt tails and pulled up his braces, the scientist held out Roxton's set of matching pearl-handled pistols in their holster. "Wouldn't happen to have a rope in there?"  
  
Challenger gave him an odd smile and shook his head. "Why did the amazons make off with you?"  
  
"They had their reasons, George, even if I didn't agree with them."  
  
Veronica spoke up, "When it began to rain, I was afraid that we would lose the trail, but the  
  
underbrush was so torn up, it was easy to follow. Almost like someone did it deliberately."  
  
"Knowing Marguerite," the hunter said, "I'm sure it was."  
  
Malone finally asked the question they were all thinking, "Where is Marguerite?"  
  
Lord Roxton turned away saying "She's still in the amazon camp--"  
  
"You left her there?" Veronica asked.  
  
The hunter turned back yelling, "Yes, I left her." Shame filled his face. "She's injured, sitting in a ten foot deep hole, and I left her there!" His entire body slumped at his admission. "How could I have left her?"  
  
"Could you have gotten her out if you stayed?"  
  
He shook his head in answer to Challenger's question.  
  
"Then you did the right thing, the hardest thing. And now, we will go together and get her back."  
  
Roxton knew that the older man was right, but it didn't make him feel any better; all that was left was to get to the camp as quickly as possible. "Marguerite is supposed to be safe until noon, but if they discover that I've escaped, all bets are off." The group followed the hunter hoping that they would not be too late.  
  
*****  
  
A rope snaked down right in front of Marguerite. Happily, she cried out, "Roxton?"  
  
The female voice which answered sent her hopes crashing. "Tie the rope around your waist."  
  
"I don't think so," Miss Krux answered.  
  
"Its your choice. Be pulled up, or die there." A spear poked over the edge and pointed straight at the heiress.  
  
Reluctantly, she stood. Broken fingers fumbling painfully, she tied the rope around herself muttering, "Roxton, where are you?"  
  
*****  
  
Marguerite was pushed to her knees before Hyppolyta. Standing at the right side of the queen, was the heavily muscled warrior who had led the assault on the treehouse: kicked her face and ribs, crushed her fingers, and clouted Roxton. She sported a large bandage across her face. They stood in an open area, away from the tents. The other amazons encircled them.  
  
"It appears that Lord Roxton would rather desert you than be my consort," the amazon queen sneered.  
  
She'd meant it as an insult to Marguerite, but the raven haired explorer turned it around, "obviously, nothing was more repellent to him than being with you."  
  
Anger blazed briefly in the blonde's eyes, then she calmly said, "then your death shouldn't be too repellent for him." With a jerk of her head, she signalled two guards forward. Marguerite cried out in pain as each grabbed an arm and began dragging her off. They roughly pushed her up against the pole standing in the centre of the clearing.  
  
As they tied her to the post, the heiress yelled, "I thought I had until noon!"  
  
Hyppolyta smiled, "since there will be no joining ceremony, there's no reason to wait."  
  
"This isn't some edict from your 'goddess', it is a convenient way to be rid of me." Bundles of dry wood were being placed around her feet. "You are jealous of me. Jealous and afraid."  
  
Hyppolyta was becoming agitated, "I was chosen as queen because I am the fiercest warrior. I don't fear you or anyone."  
  
"Then prove it, fight me."  
  
The amazon raised her hand and a torch was brought forward.  
  
"You're afraid to accept my challenge!" Marguerite called, a hint of desperation seeping into her voice. "You don't think you could win against an injured woman who lives among men! Some warrior."  
  
"I beat you before," she looked around at the women who had made her queen; she couldn't allow them to doubt their choice. "I'll beat you again, but this time, you won't walk away. Fine, if you would rather die by my blade than the flames, I will oblige you." She drew her sword and made a couple test slashes in the air to loosen up. "Cut her bonds." Turning to the tall amazon on her right, she said, "Helena, let her use your sword."  
  
Marguerite accepted the hilt of her sword -- the same blade which had been at her throat in the treehouse. She could barely support it with her right arm, and her broken fingers wouldn't close around it, so she transferred the weapon to her left hand. She didn't have much chance, but she'd had none against the fire.  
  
With a loud cry, Hyppolyta charged. Marguerite raised her sword just in time. The discordant ring of metal meeting metal seemed to echo in the clearing. A surge of adrenaline gave the heiress the strength to ignore the wounds on her feet as she scuffled around matching blow for blow. The amazon put all she had into each swipe. She lunged at Marguerite's neck. The explorer ducked, receiving nothing more than a torn sleeve. Hyppolyta was steadily gaining as Marguerite was worn down.  
  
Unnoticed by the crowd who were completely absorbed in the spectacle, four outsiders had entered their camp. When they had discovered that the prison hole was empty, the explorers had followed the sound of cheering, hoping to find Marguerite still safe. Pistols drawn, Roxton approached. Challenger and Malone both had their rifles ready and Veronica's hand rested on her knife.  
  
Roxton tapped the shoulder of an amazon. She turned, and seeing that it was a man, she grabbed for her weapon. Motioning to his gun, the hunter said, "I wouldn't" The kind treatment Marguerite had received from these women still fresh in his mind, he had no problem klonking her on the head. She fell quietly. After disposing of a few more of the female warriors, they were able to see what was holding everyone's attention.  
  
As they watched, Marguerite fell to one knee. She was holding her sword with both hands, and it was drooping. Hyppolyta gave a cry of triumph, lifted her sword high and brought it straight down toward her adversary's chest.  
  
Roxton rushed forward yelling, "NO!"  
  
The amazon queen was distracted for only a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Marguerite grasped her sword tightly and with all the strength she had left, she thrust straight across, fatally slashing her opponent's stomach. Both swords fell. Hyppolyta clasped her abdomen. Blood flowed freely around her hands and through her fingers. She fell to her knees, and looked at the heiress with disbelief. "You can't have..." she fell forward and was still.  
  
Roxton had reached Marguerite. He pulled her to her feet. Keeping an arm around her waist and holding her protectively at his side, he levelled his gun at the approaching amazons. "We're leaving," he said, "stand back and noone else need be hurt."  
  
Helena, her hands stretched out to show she was unarmed, continued forward. She addressed Marguerite, "You defeated our queen."  
  
"Look," Marguerite replied, "this wasn't our idea. We were happy at home when you and your troopers came barging in."  
  
"Perfectly happy," Roxton added.  
  
The amazon bent down to check the status of her queen. Certain that she was dead, she straightened and said, "you won in combat. You have won your freedom. Our tribe will not bother you again."  
  
Laughing with relief, Marguerite leaned against the hunter's chest. He kissed her forehead and said, "let's go home."  
  
"Sounds lovely."  
  
"It will be," He promised for her ears alone, "we have a dream to finish."  
  
*****  
  
Veronica placed a fruit salad on the table, while Malone followed with a steaming ham. The treehouse was filled with it's savoury aroma.  
  
Marguerite, swathed in fresh bandages from head to feet, sat in the great room. She was busy watching Roxton over the top of the book she was pretending to read. He was cleaning his riffle, but his eyes were constantly straying to meet the beautiful grey ones across the room.  
  
"Dinner's on," Veronica announced.  
  
"Smells wonderful," Challenger commented, passing through the middle of the room as he headed to the table. "Are you two coming, or will Malone and I have to eat your share?"  
  
"Just finishing up," Roxton said and stood. Marguerite was looking helplessly at her bandaged feet, they were still extremely painful to walk on. "Come on," the handsome hunter effortlessly lifted and carried her to the table, setting her in the chair next to him.  
  
Malone was staring from Roxton to Marguerite and back again. Finally, he asked, "So are you two going to explain what is going on?"  
  
"I don't know what you mean," Roxton answered and took a bite of the ham. He smiled appreciatively, it tasted as good as it smelled.  
  
Veronica sniggered, "the clothing on the kitchen floor?"  
  
"Must have fallen from the laundry," the heiress answered.  
  
"And it just happened to be the same articles you were missing?" the blonde continued.  
  
"Coincidence," Roxton supplied.  
  
The writer looked frustrated, but then brightened, "All right, it was obvious that all of the fighting was in Marguerite's room. Was it just a coincidence that you were both in there?"  
  
"Marguerite had slept in as she is wont, and I had gone to wake her. We were scheduled to check on that equipment on the ridge." He turned to Marguerite, "Looks like we won't be doing any hiking for a while, not until your feet heal."  
  
Malone refused to be put off, "Now wait, are you trying to tell me...."  
  
"that it happened just as we said. And if your writer's imagination causes you to put anything different in your journals, I will personally tear them up and feed them to you."  
  
Sighing in resignation, Malone said, "Marguerite, I believe you would." 


End file.
